House Guest
by Dragonsbane1611
Summary: Nevile harumphed and marched out to the patch of snapdragons who had regained most of their autonomy since he'd left them and they immediately took up spitting at his shoes.


Author's Note: This takes place after _Goldfish Pond_. Right after. Next day, even. Spawned from a conversation with Cousin.

* * *

House Guest  
_August 2007_

On all fours, the man carefully removed a clump of weeds around the goldfish pond. A thin stalk nearby started to quiver and he leaned back on his haunches. The petals had closed and looked as though they were working like miniature billows.

"Oho," chuckled Neville, mildly surprised. With a quick flick of his wand, the snapdragon went still. He got back down, nose nearly to the dirt and returned to his work, de-weeding the little flower garden. Before long, he encountered a particularly pestilent patch of roaring dandelions. Their name wasn't entirely accurate. They did 'roar', but for their size, it really only sounded like a low whistle. What the name didn't imply was their tendency to bite fingers that got too close. If managed yearly, Neville found that they were easily tamed removed. However, this growth hadn't seen a greenthumb in Lord knows how long and they had grown quite used to their little shelter of spitting snapdragons. He couldn't get his hands anywhere near their roots without them flashing 'mouthfuls' of gleaming thorns.

Extricating himself from the immobilized flowers, he got to his feet and dusted off his jeans. He entered the house through the side door and found his wife going through a packing box at the kitchen table.

"Have you unpacked my spades?" he asked, looking half-interestedly into the box.

"I put them in the cellar this morning."

Neville smiled and kissed her cheek, "Thanks a million."

He went into the pantry and heaved open a trap door in the floor.

"Watch your head," she warned. "Ceiling's a bit low."

As he descended the short stairway, he placed a hand on the edge of the opening to avoid smacking his head against it. Low though it was, he could at least stand fully upright. In the dim light filtering through a muddy window, he saw a pegboard wall opposite from where he stood. Luna had hung his spades in no particular order and they were dispersed randomly among other gardening paraphernalia. He was used to this, though and smiled to himself, taking a step toward the wall. Before he realized what was happening, a small water atomizer flew out of a dark corner on his left and caught him squarely on his cheek.

"What the-?" exclaimed Neville, recoiling and squinting to see what had thrown it. He couldn't make out any form, but there was movement and a broken shovelhead went soaring toward him. He ducked in time to miss it and quickly retreated up the small ladder into the pantry. He heard a satisfied grunt from the cellar and quickly slammed the trap door. Gingerly rubbing the side of his face, he frowned and eyed his wife suspiciously. "Luna? Did anything ... _unusual_ happen to you when you were unpacking my things?"

"What do you mean? Is something the matter?" asked Luna, blowing packing dust off a stack of magazines.

"I've just had a near-miss with a shovel and had a watering can lobbed at my head."

"That is unusual, but no. He left me alone."

"He?" said Neville.

Luna laughed lightly and shook her head.

"Really, Neville," she sighed. "The ghoul, of course."

He hadn't heard her right. Surely not. Neville gave her his best 'you-can't-be-serious' smile and chuckle to which she just raised her eyebrows. He blinked at her and she smiled. The collar of his shirt suddenly felt very constricting.

"The WHAT?!"

She seemed unfazed by his outburst and went back to the box.

"Honestly, Neville, I wonder about you sometimes."

"There's a ghoul?! In our _cellar_?!"

"Where else would it be? The attic?"

Neville couldn't believe it.

"I'll be back," he said, turning where he stood. He felt Luna grab his arm tightly as he disapparated.

_Pop!_

"Well, hello," said a surprised-looking little man sitting behind a large desk, his cheeks reddening. "Mr. … er … M-Mr. Longbottom?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Radagast," Luna greeted, sitting in a chair in front of the desk.

Reuben Radagast smiled warmly at the woman, the colour in his cheeks getting brighter.

"Mrs. Longbottom," he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Enjoying the house, are you?" He cast Neville a wary glance before returning his gaze to the woman. She was much more pleasant to speak with under the current circumstances.

"The house is lov-" Luna began, but Neville interrupted her.

"There is a _ghoul_ in my cellar."

The little man's eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Oh, well … you see … _that_ …" He cast about for the best way to continue, but for once, Mr. Radagast seemed lost for words.

"I thought you had to disclose everything," said Neville through clenched teeth.

The realtor seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, "Well … would you?"

"_Excuse me?_" Neville was having trouble breathing and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"It just doesn't look good in print, does it?" Radagast attempted. "I mean, can you see it? 'Three bedrooms, two baths, large lounge and a ghoul in the cellar'."

"Sounds nice," said Luna thoughtfully. "I'd buy it."

Mr. Radagast looked at her oddly.

"Sounds _nice_?" asked Neville, shaking his head. He took a step toward the realtor, pointing at the bruise on his swollen left cheek. "D'you see this?"

The man behind the desk squinted calculatively and said, "Teapot?"

"Watering can," corrected Luna. "And just a little one."

Neville growled and before she could grab onto him, he had disapparated again.

_Pop!_

She apparated into her kitchen and looked around. The trap door in the pantry was still closed, so she was confident he wasn't in the cellar. Luna peered out the back window, but couldn't see him tending to the unruly garden that had sprung up around the untended goldfish pond. Thinking better of trying to figure out where he had gone, she returned to the box she had been upacking at the kitchen table.

_Pop!_

Neville marched through the kitchen and into the pantry, heaving a good-sized potion tank with "Ghoul-Be-Gone" painted on the side.

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed, taking out her wand. A jet of blue light missed his right ear and he jumped a little.

"What was that for?" he wanted to know.

"You use that, Neville Longbottom and I will ... hex your spitting snapdragons," his wife threatened.

The was a sharp intake of breath.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"They'll be swallowing their little blue tongues by dinner," she went on menacingly.

Neville set the tank down heavily.

"But Luna, my tools are down there! This is my house, you know."

"Tut," said the woman, pushing past him and tugging open the trapdoor. She disappeared into the dark cellar and he could hear her talking in pleasant tones. She returned a moment later pushing a spade into his hands. "Here you are. And for this being _your_ house, he was here first, don't forget."

He growled again and said through clenched teeth, "I'd never have bought it if I knew it was already occupied!"

Luna made a noise of exasperation and grabbed up the potion tank.

"You're not getting rid of him."

Neville gave her a wry smile.

"I suppose he's just lonely, right, and you're going to be his bestest friend ever."

"Good idea," she smiled. "See, love, you'll catch on."

Hugging the tank, she disapparated with a loud _crack_.

Neville looked rather longingly into the trap door and was startled to see the ghoul crouching by the ladder. The man jumped back as a flowerpot hit him in the stomach. He caught it and kicked the door closed.

_Pop!_

Luna eyed him suspiciously but quickly smiled.

"Ooo, planting something?"


End file.
